This past weekend was one day too long. Normally I really like a three-day weekend.

Comment

poconorecord.com

Writer

Posted Jan. 25, 2013 at 12:01 AM

Posted Jan. 25, 2013 at 12:01 AM

» Social News

This past weekend was one day too long.

Normally I really like a three-day weekend. I like the freedom of no set schedule especially in the cold winter months. It's an easy excuse to stay in, wrap up tight in blankets and watch movies.

I always feel guilty being indoors when the sun is out. But when the temperature dips below 30 degrees, the guilt vanishes.

This weekend was long though. All the girls were really starting to get on my nerves and so was David. I love them but by day three I am kind of done.

Money is in real short supply this week and a few things reared their ugly heads and caused my stress level to go beyond its usual simmer to an all-out boil.

David was stressed as well and when we both are in similar mindsets it just never really works.

To get my mind off things, I threw myself into making a turkey dinner Sunday night.

David had gotten a free turkey at Christmastime at work. It had been in the freezer and I pulled it out last week envisioning a cozy Sunday night turkey dinner with all the trimmings.

It all was going smoothly. I had made my own stuffing and mashed potatoes. The gravy was almost done and the broccoli was roasting in the oven. I was spooning the cranberry sauce into a bowl when David started cleaning the roasting pan.

When he went to put it back on its shelf beneath our butcher block, there was an incredible crash.

I knew what it was before I even turned around.

Sharing that shelf with the roasting pan were a stack of bowls that I loved nestled into a wooden salad bowl.

One of those bowls was my Nanny's glass Pyrex bowl. I loved that bowl.

The bowl was scratched. You could tell it was an electric mixer that had left the damage, most likely preparing the chocolate mousse Nanny brought to every holiday.

I can still see her walking up the brick walk to the door, cigarette dangling from her lips, and glasses on the end of her nose, clutching that glass bowl.

I loved serving things out of that bowl.

But there it was, shattered into a million pieces, some as small as a grain of sand all over the slate kitchen floor.

I backed up and bumped right into a large glass of water and that hit the floor.

My gravy started to bubble up and I could smell the broccoli beginning to burn.

In that moment I wanted to throw the pot of gravy into the sink and run out of the room.

That one accident caused me to snap. I was mad. I was tired of setback after setback after working so hard and once again moving three steps back.

It wasn't the bowl. And the dinner wasn't all that great. It was everything coming back to me in a rush and there it was, piled on the kitchen floor in a jagged heap.

Some days all it takes is Nanny's chocolate mousse bowl to turn to dust on the floor to snap you back into your worries.

After dinner Molly climbed up on my lap and cupped my face in her tiny hands and asked: "Are you OK, Mommy?"